In the high-stakes arena of Virginia politics, where the governor’s race could signal national fault lines just weeks after a bruising presidential election, voters deserve candor from their leaders. Instead, during the October 9 debate at Norfolk State University—the only face-to-face clash between Democratic nominee Abigail Spanberger and Republican Lt. Gov. Winsome Earle-Sears—Spanberger delivered a masterclass in deflection.

From averting her gaze to unleashing verbal mazes on hot-button issues, and her conspicuous silence on calling out scandal-plagued running mate Jay Jones, Spanberger’s performance wasn’t just underwhelming; it was emblematic of a deeper reluctance to lead with accountability. As Virginians head to the polls, this isn’t mere stage fright—it’s a red flag for a candidate who seems more comfortable dodging than deciding.

Let’s start with the optics, because in debates, body language speaks louder than scripted soundbites. Earle-Sears, a Marine veteran with unyielding poise, repeatedly locked eyes with Spanberger, pressing her directly on thorny topics like political violence and family safety. “You have little girls,” Earle-Sears challenged, staring straight ahead as she invoked the horror of Jones’s texts fantasizing about murdering a political rival and his young children.

Spanberger? She stared blankly into the middle distance, as if the podium were a confessional and Earle-Sears an unwelcome priest. Reports from the stage described it as Spanberger “avoiding addressing her Republican opponent directly,” a bipartisan tone that felt more like evasion than elevation.

In a state still reeling from national waves of political vitriol, this wasn’t humility—it was discomfort with confrontation. Voters tuning in saw a candidate who couldn’t muster the basic courtesy of eye contact, let alone the steel to engage her rival head-on. Earle-Sears interrupted over 50 times, yes, but Spanberger’s retreat into the ether only amplified the chaos, turning what should have been a substantive exchange into a one-woman show of avoidance.

Compounding the visual fumble was Spanberger’s verbal gymnastics, a penchant for “word salad” responses that left moderators—and viewers—scratching their heads. Take the debate’s flashpoint on transgender policies in schools: Would Spanberger rescind Gov. Glenn Youngkin’s executive directive barring biological males from girls’ bathrooms and locker rooms? Instead of a yes or no, she launched into a rambling ode to “local communities” and “parents and teachers,” meandering through Title IX references without landing a point. It was a two-and-a-half-minute detour that even Kamala Harris might envy, prompting Earle-Sears to later brand it a “word salad” on social media.

This wasn’t isolated; post-debate interviews with outlets like WSHV and Katie Couric’s YouTube channel elicited six-minute soliloquies on “grace” for the “confused” when asked about biological boys in girls’ sports.

Spanberger, a former CIA officer who prides herself on precision, suddenly sounded like a Beltway consultant filibustering a client. In Virginia, where parents have battled for years over school safety—from Loudoun County’s infamous assaults to ongoing Title IX fights—these non-answers aren’t neutral; they’re a betrayal of clarity. As one X user quipped after a clip went viral, “Kamala Harris would watch this and say, ‘DAMN, now that’s word salad.’”

Virginians aren’t asking for poetry; they’re asking for positions. Spanberger’s salad days may play in D.C. salons, but they wilt under the scrutiny of suburban moms and rural dads who want straight talk on protecting their kids.Nowhere was this evasion more glaring—or more consequential—than Spanberger’s refusal to demand Jay Jones drop from the attorney general race.

The texts, unearthed just days before the debate, weren’t ancient history; they were a 2022 fever dream where Jones, then a state senator, texted about putting “two bullets” in then-House Speaker Todd Gilbert’s head and wishing his toddlers would “die in his wife’s arms.”

In a commonwealth haunted by rising political threats—from the 2024 assassination of Charlie Kirk to assaults on lawmakers—Jones’s words weren’t hyperbole; they were a disqualifier for anyone sworn to uphold the law. Earle-Sears hammered this home, interrupting to ask, “What would it take? Him pulling the trigger?” Spanberger’s reply? A tepid “abhorrent,” learned “the day they came out,” and a punt to “voters to make an individual choice.”

No endorsement withdrawal. No call to step aside. Just a former fed agent, who once chased child predators, treating homicidal fantasies like a parking ticket. This half-measure reeks of cynicism, especially given Spanberger’s half-hearted attempts to distance herself from Jones on the campaign trail. Sure, she’s run solo ads emphasizing her “bipartisan” bona fides, but her online store tells a different story: As of mid-October, bumper stickers and $25 tees emblazoned with “Spanberger, Hashmi & Jones” were still for sale, raking in cash from a ticket she publicly voted for on September 19—pre-scandal, but post her alleged “disgust.” The Republican Governors Association pounced, tweeting screenshots with the caption: “Spanberger is still selling Jay Jones merchandise. A man who fantasized about murdering his political opponents and their children.”

Even in a Monday interview, Spanberger soft-pedaled it as Jones’s “poor choice,” praising his “apologies” without urging exit.
It’s a transparent ploy: Condemn just enough to appease the base, but keep the joint branding for the down-ballot boost. Voters see through it—polls show the race tightening as Jones’s lead evaporates.

If Spanberger truly abhorred the violence, why profit from it? Why not sever ties cleanly, like the moral clarity Earle-Sears demands?Virginia’s governor isn’t a figurehead; it’s the buck-stops-here executive who stares down crises, from school safety to federal shutdowns battering the world’s largest naval base.

Spanberger’s debate—eyes down, words adrift, alliances intact with toxicity—suggests she’d rather navigate by committee than command. Earle-Sears, flaws and interruptions aside, met the moment with directness, forcing accountability where Spanberger fled it. As early voting surges, Virginians face a choice: A governor who looks away, or one who looks you in the eye. The Old Dominion deserves the latter. Anything less is just another word salad on the menu.

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